


The Playlist

by kateyboosh



Category: The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: Banter, Because that's my MO, Bowie driven blowies, Gratuitous mischief and monkey business, If you thought I liked hiding in the tags on tumblr then welcome to my tags on ao3, Ju-yin, Julian has a nap, M/M, Noel does the hair thing, Now I'm getting out of the tags, Okay fine I'm getting out of the tags now bye, Other things happen I'm sure, Platonic comedy partners, Russian poetry AKA russet potatoes, Straight up Noelian, Thanks MamaZoom love you, Their banter is like magic to me, This is how I will forever refer to this fic, Two of 'em, With drive by appearances from Rich Mike and Dave, Ziggy Stardust because that guy just won't quit, boys on tour, no wait, playlists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22607593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyboosh/pseuds/kateyboosh
Summary: Playlists are made. One platonic comedy partner takes theirs seriously, and one takes theirs... less seriously.
Relationships: Julian Barratt/Noel Fielding
Comments: 13
Kudos: 10





	The Playlist

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this fic has been buzzing around in my brain for about a year, not getting written, because starting new things is scary. All the love in the world to [MamaZoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaZoom/pseuds/MamaZoom) for encouraging me to make a start. <3

There’s a portable stereo on the tour bus, left behind by one of the bands who had the bus before them. It’s seen better days: when they’re messing around in the bus lounge one night after a show, and Rich semi-jokingly claps his hands and demands music from his subjects, no one is surprised to find the tape deck is inexplicably stuck shut and the CD player skips every time the bus hits a bump. Or accelerates up a small slope. Or is kissed by a gentle breeze.

“Useless, completely useless,” Noel moans, jabbing the at the eject button when the stereo gets stuck on a two second loop halfway through one song on _Raw Power_. Mike and Dave both have their laptops out, anyway, packed with music that won’t skip or waver or warp the sound barrier and everyone’s ears any time they take a small curve in the road. “Time to join this century,” Mike teases, ducking when Noel sticks his tongue out and takes a playful swipe at him.

Noel flops down next to Mike and peers at him scrolling, dragging and dropping songs into a new playlist. He eyes Julian, lounging sprawled with eyes half closed and legs spread loosely, from across the bus, then looks back at Mike’s laptop, then up at Julian again, a glint of mischief glowing in his eyes.

 _Oh, shit_ , Julian thinks.

*

The next day is a blessed day off. Everyone files off the bus with their various bags and suitcases a little bleary-eyed and quiet, like overtired children on a bizarre school field trip. They check into the hotel late in the morning, everyone eager to go back to sleep. Julian’s so tired from the odd schedule that touring requires - the show at night being the main focus of each “day,” followed by a burst of post-show adrenaline that makes it difficult to wind down and sleep until the early morning hours. He makes it up to his room, tosses his suitcase next to the bedside table and his phone on to it, and manages to pull both his battered boots off before stripping down and heading to the shower.

When he’s done, he dresses in a t-shirt and old, soft jeans, sinking onto the bed and trying to fight back against the idea of sleeping while the sun’s still out. He can hear Noel’s teasing voice in his head: _Old man Barratt gets a break from tour and spends the whole day napping in the sunlight, dreaming about fossils and ancient, dusty books._ He stretches his limbs, feeling warm and pleasant from the shower, a smile playing around his lips as he remembers the expression on Noel’s face last night on the bus. He reaches for his suitcase and digs around blindly, unzipping the outer pockets to find a volume of Russian poetry. Wiping the tiredness from his eyes, Julian settles back onto the pillows to read a bit.

*

The buzz of Julian’s phone against the metal base of the lamp on the bedside table startles him awake, and he knocks the Ahkmatova volume off of his chest and onto the floor as he sits up. _Shit… sorry, Anna,_ he thinks, as he grabs for his phone.

 _“Unlock the door i got a surprise for u x”_ reads the text. He can faintly hear the sound of booted footsteps coming up the hallway stairs, and he quickly straightens his sleep-rumpled hair and clothing before he cracks the door open and returns to sit casually on the edge of the bed.

The door slides open a crack, and Noel peeks his head into the room, lips pursed in a smirk, exaggerating his delight at not finding Julian horizontal. “Surprised you’re awake on a day off. Thought I’d catch you sleeping and have to knock the door down with my powerful legs, wake everyone on the floor and get us barred from coming back. What you doing up here, anyway?”

Julian masks his amusement at almost being caught out with a little cough. “Just up here expanding my mind, reading a bit of deep, complex, emotional Russian poetry.”

“Right.” Noel looks amused, and gestures vaguely at Julian’s feet with his free hand as he steps into the room. Without turning around to show Julian what he has in the bag behind his back, he kicks the door shut with one silver-booted foot and crosses the room to kneel in front of him. Looking up from under his fringe, voice soft but laced with promise, he says, “Never tried reading Russian poetry halfway under the bed instead of on top of it. That deepen the experience or something, Ju?” Cheeky grin plastered on his face, he flips the volume of poetry up into Julian’s lap with his free hand, and gets up.

 _Shit. Caught out._ Julian grins back and reaches out quickly for Noel’s arm, trying to see what he’s hiding. “What have you got in there anyway?” Noel dodges back out of reach just as rapidly, still grinning, and clears a space on the bedside table, pulling the beat up stereo from the bus out of the carrier bag. “Your surprise. I snuck back onto the bus after everyone was asleep. Mike forgot to take his laptop up to his room and-”

“You dropped it? Clicked a dodgy link and gave it a virus? And you want me to help convince Mike that he’s better off doing DJ gigs with that stereo?”

Noel’s giggling now. “No, you cheeky wanker. I made you this.” He reaches into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and brandishes a CD covered with stars and lightning bolts drawn in black marker pen. “I took Mike’s advice. Joined this century and made a playlist.”

Julian squints up at Noel. “Yeah, very technologically advanced. I’m impressed. You really think we’re going to get to listen to it on that?” he says, nodding toward the sad little stereo as Noel pops the disc into the player.

“Come on, Ju, you have to believe,” Noel says in that soft voice from earlier, as he hits the play button. The riff to _Ziggy Stardust_ starts on the stereo as Julian reaches out and pulls Noel onto the bed.

*

Seven and a half minutes later, once they’re through _Ziggy_ and almost all of _Five Years_ , the stereo hasn’t skipped once in its stable position on the bedside table. Julian is starting to believe, as he feels the slide of Noel’s tongue against his own and hears his little hums of pleasure punctuating Bowie’s voice. As _Five Years_ ends, Noel’s practically vibrating with excitement. He breaks their kiss, and slides out of Julian’s grasp to stand and take off his cutoff t-shirt. Julian watches with appreciation, then confusion as the opening riff to _Ziggy_ cuts through the room again. He thinks maybe the CD player is skipping them back to the beginning of a perpetual, eight minute long loop. He could think of worse places to be stuck in time.

*

“ _Ziggy_ again?” “Yeah,” Noel responds, slightly out of breath, bending over to unzip his silver boots, looking at Julian upside down between his drainpipe clad legs and pulling a ridiculous face. _The legs of a ram,_ Julian thinks affectionately, as he watches Noel wobble and struggle with the zip on his left boot. Julian reaches out to steady him, grabs a belt loop and walks Noel backwards, pulling him upright and rubbing his stubbly face across Noel’s back, his spread hands meeting across Noel’s stomach, playing at the waistband of his drainpipes. “Why?”

He can feel Noel start to throw shapes and pose with bravado above him, and can picture the contrast of the sheepish, pleased grin on his face from the sound of his voice. “Cos… it’s kind of my song. ‘Well hung and snow white tan,’ yeah?”

Julian snorts as he turns Noel around to face him, palming him through his drainpipes and certainly not disagreeing. “You’re a vain, ridiculous tart. Help me with these,” he says, undoing Noel’s zip and peeling back the denim and his little pink pants as he pushes Noel into the small space between the bed and bedside table against the wall, and sinks to his knees.

*

 _Ziggy_ resurfaced several times during the playlist. Julian lost count somewhere around the fourth or fifth time the song came up. There wasn’t a ton of variety on the playlist, Julian thought. In fact, it almost seemed like the playlist was just the entirety of the _The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars_ album, with _Ziggy Stardust_ interjecting his striking presence every two or three tracks. Julian’s brain was a little hazy at that point, and he wanted to ask Noel if there was anything other than Bowie on the rest of the playlist. He figured it was rude to make Noel talk with his mouth full, though. So he laid back instead, listening to _Ziggy_ again, one hand in Noel’s soft black hair and his other arm slung over his eyes, feeling like he was drifting out past Mars.

*

It’s a few days later, and a few shows later, and a few hotel rooms later. Julian’s on the bus, and he still hasn’t adjusted to the schedule, still can’t sleep. There’s not much room for tossing and turning in his bunk, so he gets up and heads to the bus lounge to stretch his legs, hoping the change of scenery will help. In the dim light, he immediately trips and stubs his bare foot on some of the junk littering the bus floor. Julian huffs a sigh and drops onto the couch, and feels something uncomfortable poking into his back. He reaches behind him and pulls a CD out of the crack between the cushions. It’s unlabeled and looks blank.

He smiles, remembering Noel’s playlist from a few days ago. How Noel was so wobbly and weak in the knees with anticipation when they started that Julian had to practically prop him up against the wall with hands pinned to either side of his hips. How Noel held his hands at his sides at first, curled gently against the wall, then wrapped one around the bedpost and frantically slid the other close to the bedside table with the stereo, needing something to hold on to as his pleasure unfurled, but knowing that the slightest vibration from his body would upset the stereo and send _Ziggy_ into another dimension. How Julian reached out to take Noel’s free hand in one of his, feeling Noel’s thighs begin to tighten and knowing he was close, knowing Julian no longer needed to hold him up. Julian pulled back momentarily, taking in Noel’s heaving breaths, tightly shut eyes, and the delicate arch of his ankles. He was surprised he didn’t hear the seams of Noel’s drainpipes straining as Noel’s muscled legs tensed in the already-stretched denim.

Julian smiles wickedly, wolfishly, as he turns the blank CD over in his hands. No point in trying to fall asleep now. He heads back to his suitcase to dig out his laptop, pops the blank CD into the tray, and starts dragging and dropping tracks.

*

Another hotel room, another blessed day off. Noel doesn’t even bother to go up to his own room. He just follows behind Julian like a small, black haired duckling as Julian opens his door, and slings his bag onto the small side table next to the armchair in the room. He knows Julian’s planning something, and perches expectantly on the armchair as Julian drops his suitcase next to the bed and leans back on the pillows. “So? What you got? Where is it?” Noel says, eyes aglow.

“You’re awfully eager today for someone who wasn’t promised anything.” Julian attempts to respond in a serious tone, but it comes out sounding droll instead. The involuntary twitch of his lip doesn’t help matters either. Noel’s eyes go large for a moment, and he smirks. “You can’t hide it from me, Barratt. I can read you like a book. Besides, I noticed the stereo went missing this morning, right around the time you were packing up your little suitcase.” “Is that so?”

Julian pats the bed next to his left side, and Noel crosses the room to lie with his odd-socked feet up on the pillows and his nose poking into Julian’s knees. As he snuggles into the bed and grabs Julian’s hand, his t-shirt rides above his waist. “Are you sure that thing didn’t crawl into a cupboard somewhere on the bus to die? You’ll open a drawer looking for sweets and find a pile of battered old parts instead.”

Noel laughs in delight, jaw working up and down as he plays with Julian’s hand, spreading his fingers and flexing them, weighing Julian’s hand in his own, up and down, like a scale. “The stereo escaped and went to live out the rest of its days on a nice electrical farm,” he shoots back, tone light and banter-breezy, but fixing Julian with a gaze, and resting Julian’s hand low on his bare stomach.

“Mmm. Pity, isn’t it?” Julian says, drumming his fingers lightly over Noel’s warm skin. “We’ll just have to imagine what this would have sounded like, then.” Noel beams up at Julian as he pulls out a CD from his jacket pocket and flashes it back and forth.

“Told you I could read you like a book, Barratt. Like Russian poetry under a bed.” Julian shakes his head and crosses the room to switch on the table lamp, and take the stereo out of his suitcase and plug it in.

*

They’re tucked up in the armchair when Julian reaches over and presses play. _Hot Stuff_ by the Stones starts up - an innocent enough first choice. All part of Julian’s plan. Noel’s face is very close to his, and his hands are trailing down Julian’s chest, stopping to play with a button on his shirt. Noel leans in and whispers softly in Julian’s ear. “Ju?” He can feel the curl of Noel’s tongue as he presses closer and whispers, “Ju, is there Bowie on this?”

Julian leans back in time to catch Noel’s smirk before he darts in to wipe it off his face with a kiss.

*

Still fully clothed, Noel slides out of the armchair to drop between Julian’s knees and work at his button and zip, just as Jagger and Bowie’s cover of _Dancing in the Street_ comes on the stereo. Noel looks a bit perplexed as two of his favorite frontmen loudly announce their presence on Julian’s mix. He darts his eyes up at Julian, sitting with his legs spread wide and hands hanging lordly over the armrests of the chair. Julian lifts his brow and motions a “go on, then” with his hand.

“Ju? This is a bit… um. Weird?” “You don’t like it? Your two favorites together?” Julian shrugs and leans over to hit the skip button on the stereo. “Ah, well, not to worry. Next song then.” It’s Pink Floyd’s _See Emily Play_ \- perfectly psychedelic, but not much of a mood enhancer.

Noel leans back and regards Julian’s at ease pose and his neutral expression, but he spots the little twinkle Julian can’t hide shining in his eyes. “Julian? Did you really make this? Seriously?” “Yeah, of course. I know how much you like Syd Barrett. Thought this was a good addition to a fine list of music.”

Julian clears his throat and reaches down to cup Noel’s face in his hand, stroking along his cheekbone with his thumb. “Why’ve you stopped? Do you want some Bowie?” he asks conspiratorially. Noel smiles a small, pleased smile, remembering his all-Bowie mix and the events it had soundtracked. He slides back up towards Julian’s lap as Julian reaches over to skip a few tracks to find one of the other Bowie songs he’s carefully included on the mix.

Noel practically chokes as he squawks around Julian when _The Laughing Gnome_ starts up. He gives Julian a black look as he pulls back, swiping at his mouth and starting to say something with his brow furrowed. Julian cuts in before he starts to protest, hitting the skip track button again. “Right, laughing gnomes are no good. Awful, not funny. What about regular ones?” Back to Pink Floyd - _The Gnome_ this time.

“Julian, really?!” Julian leans over to cycle through the rest of the tracks. “I’ve got some Rush, with and without Peart for variety, of course. Some very powerful Black Sabbath, and a particularly nice 12 minute live version of Zappa’s _Black Napkins_ from Australia, 1976. That was a great find.” Noel’s expression has changed from peeved to incredulous at that last statement. “Popular music’s not doing it, then? Perhaps this will do. It’s called _Cock o’ the North_. Lovely little title, couldn’t resist it.” A bagpipe-driven military march originally written in the 1600s starts to blare from the stereo.

Noel tries to stare daggers at Julian as Julian tries to keep a straight face looking back at Noel. The situation is too much, and accompanied by the soundtrack of bagpipes blaring, Julian bursts into a cascade of giggles. Noel covers his face with his hands and half-moans, half-laughs. “Ju, you’re ridiculous, I can’t believe you. Is there anything halfway decent on this?”

Julian’s laughing too hard to answer coherently, so Noel reaches over to pull the power cord to the stereo out. He accidentally grabs the cord to the lamp instead, leaving them in semi-darkness with the soundtrack of increasingly dramatic bagpipes. Julian reaches down to help him. He’s in silent hysteria now, wiping his eyes with one hand and trying to catch his breath as Noel flops dramatically down on his back onto the carpet, legs spreadeagled but with his hands back over his face.

“You’re a disgusting pervert, Julian Barratt. Who puts bagpipes on a mix CD? You probably get off on all those uniformed men on parade,” Noel moans. Julian’s breathing has calmed enough at this point for him to agree. “Oh, God, yes. All those shiny buttons, you’ve cracked my code,” he gasps out before dropping out of the armchair to cover Noel’s body with his.

Noel peeks out at him from between his fingers. His t-shirt has ridden up around his waist again, so Julian makes the most of the situation and starts to grind slowly on his bare stomach. He hears the hitch in Noel’s breath as he tries to keep the banter up. “You see those red uniform jackets and go at them. Like an angry… bull. Ridiculous,” he manages to gasp out.

“Mmm,” Julian agrees, nosing one of Noel’s hands away from his face to drop a light, tickling kiss behind his ear. “You must have something like that in your vast wardrobe, maybe even in your suitcase. Perhaps you can try it on and we’ll see what happens?” Noel giggles breathily as Julian presses a line of more insistent kisses down his neck, one hand still covering the opposite side of his face as he closes his eyes to concentrate on the sensation. “If not, I know there’s a spare in mine. Carry it with me all the time, in case I need some late night inspiration. Might be a little worse for wear… probably needs a good wash, but it should do.”

Julian reaches out blindly for his suitcase, fumbling with the zip on the outer pocket. Noel is getting giddy from the combination of laughter, the tickle of Julian’s moustache and hot breath on his neck, and the sensation of Julian still slowly grinding down onto him. With all the false outrage he can muster, he says, “Ju, you’re giving me rug burn. Besides, I ain’t looking to put on any more clothes tonight.”

“Is that so?” Julian murmurs. As he roots around in the pocket of his suitcase and pulls out what he’s searching for, his volume of Ahkmatova goes skidding under the bed. A few minutes earlier, Noel would have been cackling hysterically at more Russian poetry quite literally under the bed, but when he realizes what Julian’s holding, his hand slides away from his face, he bites his lip, and his limbs go a bit loose in anticipation.

“I suppose we could try it your way, then,” Julian says, sitting up as he tosses the tube of lube onto the bed and takes in the wide-eyed expression on Noel’s face, his body spread like a rag doll’s below Julian on the carpet. He reaches down and gathers Noel up, peeling off his t-shirt and gently running his hands up Noel’s back, then down Noel’s side to his hips. “Julian,” Noel breathes in his ear. He doesn’t get to finish his statement when Julian helps him the rest of the way up, then tosses him onto the bed.

*

They start out as they always do, with Noel’s heart beating in his chest like a rabbit’s, and Julian’s large, warm hands steadying him. Julian strips them both off, taking his time, dropping kisses everywhere on his path down Noel’s body. He peels off Noel’s little red pants last, too intent on swirling his tongue just how he knows Noel likes it, to make any jokes about angry bulls. Noel already feels like the human equivalent of an exclamation mark when Julian reaches down to circle and tease him open with slick fingers. He has trouble remembering his own name by the time Julian slowly slips inside and starts to thrust gently, so he moans Julian’s instead.

He’s getting closer and closer as Julian picks up the pace, each thrust pushing his body further into the soft sheets on the mattress. Even so, he feels like he would float away, drift off, dissolve, if not for Julian’s warm, comforting weight above him. Julian slows for a moment, then suddenly slides out, pressing a warm, soothing kiss to Noel’s lips when he moans his distress.

“Come on, little man,” he says. Noel’s eyes are still shut, trying to hang on to the pleasure building inside him, as Julian swiftly changes their position. Propped up on the pillows and headboard behind him, Julian pulls Noel into his lap and lines himself up, helps to guide Noel back down. Noel lets out a moan when he feels the addition of Julian’s slicked palm beginning to move around him tightly, resetting the pace. 

Grasping on to Julian’s wrist as an anchor, Noel begins to move, chest hitching as he pushes down deeply and smoothly to meet the thrust of Julian’s hips. Julian can feel and see the change in Noel, from being overwhelmed with loose-limbed anticipation at the start, to being overwhelmed with sensation now, muscles tightening as his body guides him closer. Noel’s other hand drifts up to tangle slowly in his own hair as he rides Julian, his blue eyes blinking hazily, pupils dilated. Lips parted, he begins repeating Julian’s name. He’s so sated with pleasure and so close as he musses his own hair, slurring out a breathy litany of “Ju-yin, Ju-yin, Ju-yin,” in deep contrast to the vice grip his legs have on Julian’s hips. As the rapture in his expression deepens, his brow furrows and his legs tense. Hand at the back of his head, whimpering, “Ju-yin, Ju-yin, Ju-yin,” in between gasps, Noel comes so hard he sees stars glittering in his vision.

Julian’s not far behind. He never is, not when he hears what he secretly ranks as his favorite soundtrack, the only one he really needs.

*

They’re on the bus, settling in for a long ride. Noel and Julian are the last two to turn in for the night. Well, morning, really. Noel has his personal CD player resting on his stomach, headphones on and magazine propped over his face, lying down on the couch in the bus lounge. Julian picks the magazine up, jokingly grimaces at finding Noel’s face underneath, then drops the magazine back down and lift’s Noel’s legs to rest in his lap so he can sit on the couch too, leaning his head back to stretch. Noel shifts up and tosses the magazine in Julian’s direction, pulling one headphone down off his ear.

“Prick. Don’t disturb my beauty rest.” “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Julian says, running his hand lightly over Noel’s legs, then reaching to tickle behind his knee. Noel stroppily kicks at him with an odd-socked foot, but he’s trying to hide a smile.

“What are you listening to?” Julian asks. He can faintly make out a very familiar guitar riff. “None of your business, Barratt. American big bands from the 30s. Disco music made by rats on coke running round on synthesizers. A tambourine and triangle symphony,” Noel responds, smile getting even bigger as he reaches to pop his headphones back on and turn up the volume dial. Leaning back with the tip of his thumb in his mouth, blue eyes glowing mischievously, Julian doesn’t believe it for a minute. “Last song, anyway,” he half shouts around his thumb. “A real good one, too.” Lips pursed in a smirk, he settles down with eyes closed to listen.

Julian watches him enjoying the music for a moment, then leans down over Noel to pull one headphone away from his ear. Unsurprisingly, it’s _Ziggy Stardust_. “Looks like you found the other Bowie track on my mix. I’m heading to bed. You can join me when you’re done, but don’t expect any references to ‘God-given ass,’” Julian says slowly in Noel’s ear, quoting Ziggy’s other fine attribute. Noel opens his eyes, smile radiant, and turns to kiss Julian.

**Author's Note:**

> Alllllll the cred to [MamaZoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaZoom/pseuds/MamaZoom) for the delicious headcanon of Noel having to tense his legs to come. 
> 
> Yes, I made the playlists. Please, for the love of God, don't listen to them all in one go. Listen to Raw Power instead. ;)
> 
> [Side One](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLEwBi8WFzCpzs57CaS5eES8hhGPpyl1KE)  
> [Side Two](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLEwBi8WFzCpwfblYeR3rbJESz9WdSGjS8)  
> [Raw Power](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLEwBi8WFzCpz1moeaAVGsvpQIkhUknmHJ)


End file.
